LONDON FALLS HEAD OVER HEELS WITH ONE DISH DELIVERIES
THERE are a number of ways to approach the news that this month saw the quiet unveiling of a delivery operation focused solely on the parmo — that unholy, Teesside-born synthesis of breaded chicken, cheese and a sort of ineffable heavily inebriated desire. One is that it’s a reflection of comfort food’s continued hold on the collective pandemic-bludgeoned appetite. Another is that lots of us are all so nostalgic for every facet of going out — the crush at the bar, the moment of tearful profundity while Mellow Magic plays in a 2am Uber — that a mythic kicking-out-time delicacy has a freshly potent emotional power.
Both are valid theories. But, to me, the materialisation of something like
ParmoHub — which, in essence, is a one-item spin-off operating out of regional steak chain Tomahawk’s new Hoxton site — symbolises what I’ve come to think of as the supremacy of the single-dish business. Or rather, the vogue for a kind of gleeful home-dining monomania that has swept the dormant industry. Think Mystic Borek’s burnished, sell-out filo pies;
The Lasagne Man’s trays of bubbling, weekend succour; Arrosto’s magnificently luscious rotisserie chickens or
Radio Lamington’s exceptionally well-made Aussie cake boxes.
From big-name groups launching simplified spin-offs to furloughed chefs growing mini empires from their cramped domestic kitchens, it has been one of the most cheering hospitality stories of this cursed year. But now, with outdoor dining due to return in April and June’s complete freedom from restrictions flickering alluringly on the horizon, it feels like an opportune time to ask: is there a future for all this single-mindedness in a reopened world?
I kicked off my research, in what may constitute a cry for help, with one of those parmos — a chicken escalope of nightmarish proportions, haphazardly scattered with jalapeños, chorizo and a vast, oozing spill of cheesy béchamel. Viewed through sober eyes it was almost comically distressing. But, well, once you drilleddown to the details (surprisingly plump, decent-quality poultry, for one thing) it had a diabolical effectiveness that was hard to deny.
Thankfully, there was more refinement from Empire Biryani. This new, tightly focused offering from contemporary Indian Gunpowder yields refreshingly lo-fi, finish-at-home feasts that feature tender hunks of beef boti kebab, Hyderabadi egg curry thrumming with chilli, and a main event of delicately fluffed, exquisitely fragrant lamb biryani beneath an ornate, seeded pie crust.
For a distinct yet no less impressive pastry-topped centrepiece, I can’t recommend Willy’s Pies enough. Launched in lockdown one by former St John chef Will Lewis, their weekly run of 250 hearty, innovatively filled savoury bakes — smoked pig cheek and roast chicken pie; chard and ricotta slice — routinely sell out in minutes. And one of their majestic lamb, potato and za’atar pasties, put away so briskly I don’t think I even sat down, is on my lockdown dining Mount Rushmore.
This sort of jubilant, against-the-odds culinary creativity feels like a genie not easily crammed back into the bottle (notably, Lewis has quit his day job at Brat to pursue Willy’s Pies full time).
One pasty, put away so briskly I don’t think I even sat down, is on my lockdown dining Mount Rushmore
Yes, the return of restaurant dining will bring a drastic levelling off and reduce kitchen availability. But allied with the game-changing eureka moment of finish-at-home, which has decisively democratised takeaway for those outside prime restaurant delivery catchments, the best of these specialist brands feel like permanent fixtures; habit-forming, unpackable parcels of happiness that have got lots of us through this nightmare.
Those sorts of associations aren’t easily unpicked and I, for one, long after June’s liberated jamboree, plan to keep thinking inside the box and savouring one thing done spectacularly well.